


A Perfect Hiding Spot

by arihime



Series: Twin AU [7]
Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-26 00:09:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14389992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arihime/pseuds/arihime
Summary: Frederick will never think to look for Chrom outside of the castle. And if it means that Chrom gets to spend time with the woman he loves, well, that's even better.





	A Perfect Hiding Spot

**Author's Note:**

> I guess you could call this my contribution to Awakening's 6 anniversary, though really this fic has been a long time in coming. It was originally written for Chrobin Week 2016's "Domestic" prompt. Better late than never, I suppose.
> 
> Big thanks to Vy and Anik for beta'ing!

If Chrom has to sit through another meeting about decor and guest lists, he’s going to go insane. He can almost imagine the historians talking about it now: brave Exalt Chrom survived the war in Plegia only to be felled by insanity during the planning of his coronation ball.

Honestly, he isn’t even sure why he needs to attend those meetings in the first place. Tactics and battle come easy to Chrom; the nuances of colors and seating arrangements do not. Lissa is far better at these than him, and has proven her expertise time and time again. Why can’t she handle those details by herself? Or Maribelle?

It’s that thought that leads Chrom to boycott the latest meeting, though the more apt term for what he’s doing is hiding. He made sure not to be in his room when Frederick came by to escort him, nor in his study, the training grounds, or any other place that would be obvious. Chrom’s planning has bought him a half hour of freedom, but he knows that continuing the game will be difficult. Frederick has a knack for tracking him down, especially when Chrom is trying to shirk his royal duties. He’s running out of places to hide.

Currently, he’s roaming around the guest quarters. It’s a fairly obvious place, but there are enough empty rooms that Chrom thinks it might work. Surely Frederick can’t search all of them.

(And yes, he is fully aware that this extended game of hide and seek is unbecoming of the Exalt, but at this point he’s so exasperated he doesn’t care.)

Despite that, Chrom’s feet don’t carry him to an empty room. He finds himself tracing the path to where the twins live, standing in front of Aislin’s door. Of all the places Frederick would look, this is probably one of the first.

And yet, hiding is suddenly the furthest thing from Chrom’s mind.

He raises his hand to knock—he has long since learned his lesson about bursting in on Aislin unannounced—but before his fist can make contact, the door swings open on its own.

Aislin stands on the other side, her circlet gone and her hair loose. Chrom can count the number of times he’s seen her in a dress on one hand, and each subsequent appearance never fails to surprise him. This time, the dress is a simple dark blue thing with grey accents. _His colors,_ Chrom’s mind supplies. The thought make him giddy enough that he almost doesn’t catch her question.

“Chrom? What are you doing here?”

“Do I need a reason to drop by?” Chrom asks, half teasing and half serious. 

“No, but it is unexpected. Didn’t you have a meeting?”

Chrom winces. “Let’s not talk about that.”

“Don’t tell me you’re hiding.” Aislin’s lips curl into a mischievous smile. “Here?”

“If you’ll let me.”

“Well, I was about to go out. . .”

She taps her chin in contemplation, but at the same time steps away from the door so that he can enter. It closes firmly behind him, and suddenly Chrom remembers his etiquette tutor lecturing him on how to interact with an unmarried lady—above all, he should never be in a closed room with her. It’s a stupid thing to think about, seeing as he’s already broken most of the rules when it comes to Aislin. And yet, the moral of that lesson pops up clearly in Chrom’s mind: marriage.

The topic has been on his mind a lot lately. As Exalt, he is expected to marry, and to have heirs to carry on Naga’s bloodline. And while he once would have shied away from the thought, now Chrom finds himself embracing it. 

He already knows who he wants to marry, after all.

“You know this is a bad hiding spot. Frederick is bound to guess you’re either with me or Sissy,” Aislin says, sitting down on her bed.

“I’m hoping he’ll guess a few other places first,” Chrom replies. Now that he’s with her, the last thing Chrom wants is to be out of Aislin’s presence. “You said you were going out, before. Where to?”

“Just to the market, and maybe around the capital a bit. Really, I just wanted to go for a walk.” She shrugs. “I figured it would be a nice change of pace, from things.” 

She waves a hand around the room in explanation. Aislin has never really been comfortable inside the palace, not like Narcissus is. The only reason she’s here at all is because she hates being separated from her brother even more. 

“Would you like company on this walk?” Chrom asks. They haven’t spent much time alone together since the end of the war, and he sorely missing her company. 

(The fact that Frederick would never think to look for him outside the castle walls is an added bonus.)

Aislin blinks at him. “You want to go to the market with me?” 

“Yes. Why not? It’s certainly better than what’s going on here.” 

“Are you going to go dressed like that?” Aislin asks, casting a critical eye up and down his person. 

Chrom looks down at his shirt. “. . .Yes?”

Aislin laughs. “Chrom, you’re the Exalt. You’re not exactly inconspicuous, you know? If you really want to sneak out of the castle, you’re going to have to hide the more obvious parts of you.”

“Like what?”

She stands and circles around him, skirt swishing as she moves. “Well for one thing, you’re going to have to wear both sleeves.” She reaches out and draws her fingers lightly over the mark of the Exalt on his shoulder. “And for another, you’re going to have to cover your hair.” 

Chrom runs his fingers through it on reflex. “What’s wrong with my hair?”

“How many people do you know with royal blue hair?”

“Ah, good point.”

“And then your clothes are much too fine to be a normal peasant, and your shoes—”

“All of that too? Really?”

She stops in the middle of her list and smiles, wide and teasing. “It’s nothing we can’t fix.”

Now it’s Chrom’s turn to grin. “So, you’ll let me come with you?”

“Of course, Chrom.” She takes his hand in her own and pulls him towards the door. “But first, we need to get you some clothes. I think Sissy might have some stuff that would fit you.”

Chrom lets her lead him across the hall, relishing the feeling of her hand in his. She throws open Narcissus’ door without bothering to knock and walks in with a practiced ease.

“Sissy’s down in the practice yard with Gaius and Ricken,” she explains, before letting go of his hand and rummaging through Narcissus’ wardrobe. She pulls out a few items, but shakes her head and continues searching, muttering to herself as she goes.

“You’re a bit taller than Sissy, but I think he should have something that will fit you.”

_A bit_ is an understatement. Narcissus hardly passes Chrom’s shoulder, and Aislin. . . Aislin has to stand on her tiptoes to kiss him, Chrom remembers fondly. He has half a mind to get a demonstration of that fact, but Aislin turns and tosses a shirt to him before he can even get close.

“That should work. Thank goodness Sissy likes long sleeves. Go ahead and change. I’ll be right back.”

It’s not as if they haven’t seen each other naked before, or even _admired_ each other while naked (and wow, does that thought make Chrom blush), but he does as he’s told regardless. The shirt is a bit tight around his shoulders, but not uncomfortably so, and it fully covers his brand.

Chrom pulls a pouch out of his shirt pocket before placing it over Narcissus’ desk chair. He undoes the draw string and peeks inside, taking comfort in knowing that the ring is still inside and in perfect condition even after being carried through a war and back. 

A ring made at Chrom’s birth, to be given to his future wife. A ring he never though he’d put to use, until now. He’s been set on marrying Aislin ever since the war finished—no, before then, when she came to his room in Ferox after Emm’s death. He just hasn’t been able to find the right moment to ask.

Now, he might get his chance.

Aislin comes back in just as Chrom is putting the ring in his pants pocket, and he startles a bit at her arrival. She stops at the door, hands held behind her back.

“How do I look?” Chrom asks, holding his arms out for inspection.

“Hmmmm. . .” She stalks forward, stopping when there’s less than a foot of space between them. “Not exactly common, but not like an exalt, either. I think you’ll do.”

“Good. Are we ready to go then?”

“Just a second.”

She presses up against him and stands on her tip toes, and for one fleeting moment, Chrom thinks she’s going to kiss him.

Then she reaches up and plops something on his head.

“There, that should do it,” she says, grinning.

Chrom pulls whatever it is off, and finds himself staring at an archer’s cap. “This is going to cover my hair?”

“Just until we can get out of the castle. I think after that we should be fine. You’d be surprised how quickly blue hair disappears in a crowd.”

“Does it now?”

“It does if people aren’t looking for you. Have you ever snuck out of the castle before?”

“Once, with Gaius. Other than that. . .” 

When he was younger, there was hardly any time to sneak out, what with lessons and swordplay and other princely duties. And the older he got, the more he found his attention taken up by the Shepherds.

“Do you remember the way Gaius took to get you out?” Aislin asks.

“Through the servant’s entrance, I think.”

“Well then, I guess that’s the way we’ll go.”

Together, they step out into the corridor. It’s empty, but Chrom can’t help but feel paranoid as they walk— Frederick could be around any corner, waiting to drag Chrom back to his dull meeting. Every time he sees another person, he ducks down without thinking.

“Don’t do that, you’ll look suspicious,” Aislin chides. “You need to act normal the whole way, so people won’t have any reason to look at you.”

“You certainly know a lot about sneaking out of a castle,” Chrom teases.

Aislin’s face darkens abruptly, and she falters in her step.

“Not nearly enough.” The words are so quiet that Chrom almost doesn’t catch them.

He acts on instinct, grabbing Aislin’s hand before she can get buried in whatever memory his comment brought up. She flinches at the contact before squeezing his hand, perhaps a bit harder than necessary. When she looks back at him, her smile is brittle, but there. 

“Come on,” she says, pulling him along.

Sneaking out of the castle is easier than Chrom expects. The kitchens that they walk through are bustling, and no one really gives them a second glance other than to make sure they are sufficiently out of their way. One or two maids look at their clasped hands and giggle, but there isn’t any recognition in their eyes when they look at Chrom.

It’s odd, knowing at all it takes to be anonymous in the eyes of his people are long sleeves and a hat. Chrom files this information away for later, though he has the distinct feeling that the same tactics won’t work after his coronation.

The kitchen exit leads to a back road just on the outskirts of the castle gates. Two guards stand on duty, but they hardly glance in Chrom and Aislin’s direction, too focused on watching for threats from the outside. Not that there are any, now that the war is over. The day is bright and peaceful, and soon he and Aislin join the crowd of people at the center of Ylisstol.

Walking hand in hand with Aislin is nicer than Chrom expected it to be. He feels a warm rush of affection every time he looks at their joined hands. Even better is the ease with which Aislin takes it. Normally, she shies away from any lingering touches, especially in public, but today she doesn’t seem to mind. Every so often, she uses their connection to lead Chrom through the winding streets, pulling him along gently. And every time he squeezes her hand, she looks over her shoulder and smiles, light and carefree.

The market is flurry of activity, people shuffling to and fro between the various colorful stalls. It seems to Chrom that every item in the world is there, from food to clothes to jewelry. He even spies what looks like a weapons seller, polished swords laying out on his table.

“Maybe we should get you a new hat,” Aislin says. She nods to a stall on the right, where colorful creations bloom from a metal rack. They’re so outlandish Chrom isn’t sure they can be called hats.

“I thought you said I wasn’t going to need a hat once we got in the crowd,” he says.

“I did, didn’t I?” Aislin grins up at him. “Personally, I think you should keep it. It looks very dashing on you.”

Chrom sweeps the hat off his head and sets it on top of Aislin’s blonde hair. “I think this suits you better than me. It is an archer’s cap, after all.”

“It doesn’t suit anyone,” Aislin says, though she makes no move to take the hat off her head.

They end up going to the hat stall anyway, just so they can try on the most outlandish one of them all. Or well, that’s the plan. The second they approach, the shopkeeper looks Chrom up and down with a gleam in her eyes that spells trouble. Her gaze lingers specifically on Chrom’s uncovered hair, and on his covered shoulder.

“Well, looks like I have a very special customer today,” she purrs.

Chrom bolts, pulling Aislin with him. Maybe it’s cowardly of him, but he doesn’t want to be identified as the Exalt today. He just wants to be Chrom, enjoying a day out with the woman he loves.

They dash through the market, weaving through the crowd until Chrom thinks he’s put enough distance between himself and the very perceptive hat seller. Aislin stumbles to a stop behind him, one hand gripping his sleeve to steady herself.

“Sorry—” Chrom starts, but he cuts off when Aislin starts laughing, loud and carefree.

“Gods, Chrom, you should have seen your face!” She cries. “I don’t think I’ve seen you look that scared of Risen.”

“She startled me,” Chrom murmurs, but he can’t work up a good defense in the face of her mirth. Aislin’s laughs are rarer than her smiles, and he’s glad his folly brought it out. Still. . . 

“I think we should probably avoid going near that stall again.”

“Good point. And maybe you do need a hat after all.” She reaches for the archer’s cap, but it’s gone, a casualty of their run. In its absence, Aislin’s hair is tangled.

Chrom reaches out to fix it before he can stop himself, sliding his fingers through her hair until it lays smooth, and then further down, tracing her shoulders and her spine until he can rest his hand on the small of her back. 

Aislin blushes. “Chrom. . .”

He kisses her before she can finish her protest, just a gentle press of his lips against hers. Aislin makes a noise that might be of surprise, and then she arches against him, deepening the kiss. 

Chrom isn’t sure how long the kiss lasts, and honestly he doesn’t care. When they finally break apart, Aislin’s eyes are wide and glassy.

“Should we go back to the market?” Chrom asks, voice a bit hoarse.

Aislin nods.

She shows him around the rest of the market, pointing out all the different stalls that she likes to visit. Throughout the whole perusal, they are touching somehow, his hand on her lower back, hers on his arm, and hands clasped together as she pulls him along.

“I love the necklaces this one has. They’re always so lovely, but never seem like too much. See?”

She motions to a necklace hanging from a jewelry stall. The pendent is a swirl of white glass that throws rainbows around it when it catches the light.

“You have a good eye,” the stall owner says. He takes the necklace off the hook and holds it out to Aislin. “Would you like to try it on? I think it would look wonderful with your eyes.”

Aislin takes a step back. “Oh, no thank you. I wasn’t really looking to buy anything.”

The stall owner hums and turns his attention to Chrom. 

“What about you? Do you want to buy this for your girl here?”

Chrom’s first instinct is to say yes. It would look lovely with Aislin’s eyes, and she does seem to like it. But then he realizes that he doesn’t have any money on him; he hadn’t thought to bring any. 

Aislin starts to pull him away from the stall. “It is lovely, really, but no thank you. We’re sorry for wasting your time.”

They walk a few feet away before Chrom says, “Aislin?”

“Hmmm?”

“Did you want the necklace?”

She looks at him but doesn’t stop walking. “No. Like I said, it really was lovely, but I hardly have an occasion to wear it. Besides, I already have jewelry.” She taps her forehead where her circlet normally lies. “That’s enough for me, but it is sweet of you to ask, Chrom.”

Her explanation is sound enough, but Chrom can’t help casting a glance back at the stall. He makes a mental note of where the jewelry stall is for later, when he can come back with money in hand. It would make a nice courting gift, he thinks, even though he can’t really be said to be courting Aislin if he’s ready to propose. . .

He’s so distracted by the thought that it takes Chrom a moment to realize that they’re moving out of the market and towards the streets of Ylisstol once more.

“Don’t tell me we’re leaving already,” he says. He doesn’t want this day to be over; it’s hardly just begun.

“No, no. I just thought it was time we get some food. There’s a bakery not too far from here that has the best pastries.”

“I think Frederick would scold me if he found out I was having nothing but pastries for a meal.”

“Well, Frederick isn’t here, is he? Besides, it isn’t as if you have to watch your figure.” She pats him on the stomach.

“You’d be surprised. I’m told I have to have a certain physique for the coronation,” Chrom says.

“One day of indulgence won’t hurt,” she says, and pulls him along.

The bakery is housed in a plain but homey building. The sign is small and easily overlooked, but there are cookies gleaming up at Chrom through the window, golden brown and perfect.

“They taste just as good as they look,” Aislin says.

A bell chimes when they enter, and the man behind the counter perks upon seeing Aislin.

“Ah, good day, dear! I was wondering when I’d see you again.”

“Hello,” Aislin says. “Sorry I haven’t been around lately.”

“Well, it’s no matter. You’re back now.” The baker looks at their intertwined hands and smiles. “And I see you’ve brought your boyfriend with you as well!” 

Chrom flushes. “Hello.”

“Feel free to look at what we have on display. I’m sure she’s told you all about our specialties.”

They walk a few feet away, ostensibly to inspect the cookies. Chrom wraps his arms around Aislin and sets his chin on the top of her head. If the baker identified them as lovers, then why not take advantage? Aislin at the very least doesn’t seem to mind.

“Come here often, then?” Chrom whispers.

“A few times a month, when we’re in the city. I told you I like to go on walks, didn’t I?”

“And then you get a reward at the end?”

“Oh, stop it.” She laughs and swats at his arm playfully. “See anything you like?”

Yes, but it isn’t the pastries he’s looking at. “I’ll get whatever your usual is.”

Aislin untangles herself from Chrom and goes up to the counter to order their treats. He lingers back and watches her, part of him wondering what their life would be like if it was full of sweet moments like this. He makes another mental note for treats he can give her later.

Aislin comes back with a neatly packed basket looped around her arm. “A picnic for the couple,” the baker says, eliciting blushes from both of them. Chrom manages to recover quick enough to thank the baker.

“Just have fun you two. That’s thanks enough.”

The bell chimes again as they leave, once again hand in hand. It’s become so easy now just to take Aislin’s hand as they walk down the street. Chrom can hold it in his own, or slot it on his elbow, and Aislin will hum happily and run her fingers over his arm. It’s such a happy, blissful gesture that Chrom forgets to ask where they are going.

“There’s a fountain up ahead that I think would be a good place to stop and eat,” Aislin says.

Chrom look up, surprised when he recognizes where they are. “The one in the main square, you mean?”

“Yes. Would that be too conspicuous?”

“Of course not.” No one has recognized him other than the hat seller, or if they have, they haven’t mentioned it. “. . .Isn’t that a place for couples?”

He’s heard Sumia and Cordelia mention it a few times in breathy voices, though he’s never gotten the appeal of sitting near a fountain.

“You don’t _have_ to be part of a couple,” Aislin says, though she runs her fingers over his arm in a way that Chrom knows is deliberate. “But it wouldn’t hurt, either.”

“Then by all means, lead the way.”

They aren’t walking for long before Chrom spots the statue of Naga, hands outstretched, water running over her arms in absolution. Long ago, one of his ancestors had it commissioned after a great war, so that all of Ylisstol could come and bask under Naga’s glow and radiance without having to go to a temple. How it became associated with love is a little iffier, but Chrom thinks that Naga would approve of all these couples sitting under her gaze.

As if the Divine Dragon herself is watching over him, he and Aislin find a prime spot on the rim of the fountain, far enough from the spouts so that they don’t get splashed. They sit side to side, pressed as close as they can to each other while still being decent. Aislin sets the basket on her lap and fishes out a pastry from the top.

“Here, try this.”

Chrom knows that Aislin means for him to take it, but instead he takes a bite right from her hand.

“Mmmm. You’re right; it is good.”

“Chrom—” Aislin starts to chide, but once again he stoops and kisses her before she can say another word. This time, she melts into it immediately.

“You know, you can’t always kiss me quiet whenever I’m going to scold you,” Aislin says once they break apart.

“I know,” Chrom says, looking askance.

Aislin laughs, darting forward to give him a quick peck on the lips. Chrom’s hands shoot out and hold her there. He coaxes her mouth open with his own, tasting how sweet it is compared to the pastry. He traces his tongue around her mouth for a few moments, then realizes that they are in _public_ and pulls away hastily. 

Aislin collapses into a fit of giggles on his chest, while Chrom looks around. No one seems to have noticed how far they went; all the other couples are too wrapped up in each other.

“I’m sure the people of Ylisse would be shocked to see their Exalt act so brazen,” Aislin whispers into his ear.

Chrom pulls back, alarmed. “Don’t say—” he starts, but is cut off when Aislin shoves the rest of the pastry into his mouth before doubling over with laughter.

They spend the rest of the day like that, teasing each other and eating under Naga’s statue. Aislin moves the basket off her lap, and they sit with their hands intertwined atop their legs. Chrom finishes his food in record time, then just sits back and watches Aislin eat hers. She looks so calm and happy that he smiles.

_This is the perfect time to ask,_ Chrom realizes, suddenly hyper aware of the ring in his pocket. They are alone, they’ve had a wonderful day, and Chrom doesn’t think they’ve ever had a more peaceful moment together. He wants the rest of his life with Aislin to be like this, quiet and peaceful and happy. 

What better way to start that then by asking her to marry him now?

Chrom reaches for the ring. 

“Aislin?”

“Hmm?” 

There’s a smile on her face when she turns to look at him, and crumbs dusting her cheek from the half-eaten pastry in her hand. Chrom reaches forward and brushes them off with his thumb.

“Oh, thank you.” She rubs at the area absent-mindedly and holds the pastry out to him. “Do you want some?”

“No, you have it. I’ve already eaten enough.”

“Still trying to watch your figure?”

Chrom shakes his head. He’s starting to lose focus.

“Do you think. . . do you think we’ll get to have more moments like this, just the two of us spending time together?” He asks, trying to pull the conversation back to its original course.

Aislin sets the pastry down. “I certainly hope so. But then, you’re a busy man, Chrom. I understand if we can’t.”

“I’ll never be too busy for you,” he vows, and here he starts to pull the ring out of his pocket. “In fact, nothing would make me happier than—”

“There you are, milord! And Aislin as well.”

Frederick’s voice breaks through the quiet, startling Chrom so much he nearly drops the ring.

Chrom has never wished Frederick bodily harm before, but the thought hovers distantly in his mind as he sees the knight approach the fountain, completely shattering the moment and Chrom’s chances in one fell swoop. Already, people are starting to look at them, drawn by Frederick’s words and presence. In the same moment, Aislin scoots away from him.

“Frederick,” Chrom grits out. “What are you doing here?”

“Come to fetch you for your meeting, milord. Surely you didn’t forget?”

“I am not discussing table settings and flowers anymore. Lissa or Maribelle can figure that out.”

“And they did, milord. That meeting ended hours ago. But you have a finance meeting in an hour that you need to get ready for.”

Chrom blinks and looks up. To his surprise, the sun has begun to set, painting the sky a bright orange, though Chrom could have sworn it was still high in the sky a few minutes ago. Has that much time really passed?

Beside him, Aislin stands, brushing crumbs off her skirt. “You should go,” she says. “You have a halidom to run, after all.”

“Aislin, I—”

“It’s fine.” She smiles, but it is nowhere near as brilliant as the ones from earlier in the day. “I need to go return the basket anyway. Goodbye Chrom, Frederick.” She nods to both of them, then turns and walks briskly down the road, leaving Chrom without a goodbye kiss.

Without a proposal. Chrom squeezes the ring in his hand so hard he is sure he’ll see the imprint of it on his skin later.

“Forgive me, my lord. I wouldn’t have interrupted, but we really do need to get going if we don’t want to be late for the meeting.”

Chrom holds his breath for a moment, then lets everything out in one long exhale and pockets the ring. It isn’t really Frederick’s fault. For all that Chrom wishes he never gained the title, he is still the Exalt, and he must fulfill the responsibilities that come with that.

“It’s fine. The meeting is about redistributing funds to help citizens affected by the war, isn’t it?”

“Yes, my lord.”

There will be other times to propose. Other happy, lovely moments with just the two of them. And when those moments come, Chrom will be ready.


End file.
